The Flight
by aquinasgentrified
Summary: The city's falling to pieces. Ida gathers her children and prepares to flee Columbia-while hoping she'll encounter her husband, still in the thick of it, on their way out. Her husband finds her, and he has come to a few revelations during his time in the nightmarish city.


Ida slammed her trunk shut in time with the loud bang outside her home. She lurched and shouted- the noise was either a thunderclap or a gunshot. It was the sound of judgement either way, but the judge's character can make all the difference in times like these. Ida prayed to her God, her Prophet, and the Founders each in their time as she ran across her parlour to bolt the windows shut. Another crash came, and the darkness in the sky told her who was doing the judging.

"Jeremiah! Ava! Downstairs!"

As the little thuds began echoing down the staircase, Ida became to desperately circle her parlor and take inventory. Had she gathered all the valuables? Did she bring her grandfather's pocket watch? Her grandmother's cameo? And what of Edward's books? She couldn't carry all of them, and she knew she didn't have the space for them in her trunk, but he loved his books so much. He had memorized most of the works in his collection of Keats. He used to recite to her, back before they were married. He had been so sensitive, so intense. All of her friends derided him as unmanly. Maybe they were right, but he was a good man, and a better husband than any of their brutes. Their brutes who were now being killed in the streets by even rougher thugs. Oh, God- Edward was in those streets, running home from park in a sea of red.

"Mama!" Ava cried.

Ida rushed over to the children, crying in their Sunday best. They had looked so beautiful at the parade this morning. It was only a few hours ago, and their clothes had become so unspeakably dirty in the run home.

"Now Ava, stop your crying this instant! Did you bring your doll, darling? We have to go now, and I know how much you love her-"

Ava continued crying in her little frilly dress and shining shoes.

"Ava, please, this is important. Do you have your doll? We need to leave and if you don't have it-"

"Mama, stop!" she cried and cried, "Stop! I'm not going, I'm not! I can't hold all my dolls, I can't we can't go we can't!"

"Ava!"

"No, Mama! No! NO!"

Ida slapped her as hard as she could, shaking her and screaming while Ava shrieked and shrieked, "Enough! Enough! Stop, God damn you, stop! You wretched brat, stop!"

Jeremiah began to quietly cry in his sailor suit as the lightning lit up the room in a single, brilliant flash. Ida saw Ava's face in the whiteness, and she saw the red mark on the cheek she used to kiss so often. Ida froze, and slowly moved her fingers up and off Ava, joint by joint.

"That's enough, now. Grab your things, we're leaving."

"But… Papa…"

"Papa isn't home yet, Jeremiah. He'll meet us at the airship."

Jeremiah sniffed quietly.

Ida got up and moved to the trunk. She grabbed the handles firmly, and hoisted it up as she moved to the door. She stopped right at her step, and took one last look at the place she had made her home for so many years. Rich, furnished, and elegant- her home was a model of good taste. Her friends had so admired it; their parties would go on for hours, just sitting on the sofas and divans and drinking beautiful cordials out of crystal glasses cut like gemstones. What a life it had been.

A gunshot rang out, seeming to sound outside their door. Ida dropped her trunk and ran to her children with all the force of a wave, crashing on the two little rocks frozen in their places. She pulled them away from the door, behind the staircase. No one would see behind the staircase, no one would check. And they were small, they could fit- they'd be safe if only they'd stay quiet. Stay quiet, stay hidden. What would happen to them if the door opened? If the Vox came pouring in the door and found Ida, clinging to the bannister. What would the children see? How could they escape when the Vox finally left the home, leaving behind a lifeless shell and a city falling from heaven? They would crash into Earth, or be found and strung up as examples-

The door opened. The blue light from the storm outside spilled onto the floor, broken only by the black silhouette of a slender, bent man.

Ida stared unceasingly as the man moved into the house, the hand with the gun in it trembling.

"Ida-" he murmured.

"Oh, God."

Ida ran behind Edward and bolted the door before she turned to her husband, who was soaked with rain and shaking and drooping. "Oh, Edward," she murmured against the sickle-curved shoulders, "I thought you were gone."

"Jeremiah, Ava. Please go lie down for bed."

The two children stared.

"Edward? We have to leave, now. I have everything packed, it's alright."

"Ida- no. Children, to bed."

They ran up the stairs.

"Edward, we must leave! Before it's too late!"

Edward walked away, moving past the staircase and through the doorway into his sitting room. Ida watched him go, then followed curiously.

"Edward?"

He moved deliberately across the carpet, before falling into his leather chair, overlooking the entire room. He surveyed it calmly, taking stock of the single lamp, the box of cigars, the decanter of brandy. As he noted each item in its turn, he looked back at Ida.

"It's already too late, my love."

Ida felt her heart explode.

"They're two block over, and coming closer. There's no point."

Chains of gunfire began.

"And besides, he's here too."

"He?"

"The False Shepherd."

"Oh, no," Ida gasped as she fell onto her knees, "No, he is dead!"

"No. I saw him. I saw him cook men alive. I saw him summon the crows to rip men apart, beakful by beakful. I saw him throw men and women off the city- I heard them scream as they realized they were dying. He's got a girl who can pull weapons out of air, out of nothingness."

Ida stared numbly at the carpet.

"And he's fighting the Vox. The Vox, the Founders- it's all blood, all meat. Everyone's just meat, Ida. Meat on bones, meat being torn into fat slabs for crows. Meat running to stay in its skin, meat being pulled into the open air. We're all meat, my love." He brandished his pistol. "I shot a Vox with this gun. I saw his chest bloom. His heart desperately clinging to itself as the bullet pulled it apart."

"I only have four bullets left, Ida. Only four."

"You don't have to kill any more of them, Edward," Ida said as she stood up, trying to pet her husband's hair and make him see reason, "We can just sneak around the back of the house, avoid them-"

"No, we can't, Ida. We're dead."

Edward stood in front of her, the eyes that were so clouded a moment ago seeming to glow in the dark parlour. He grabbed her arm with his free hand, and pulled her close.

"The world is ending, you see. This world is doomed, all doomed. We are God's mistake, a travesty that can no longer exist. Everything you know as reality, our lives, our children- it's wrong. Reality is being rendered and torn, and we're stuck delaying the inevitable."

He was shaking, "I saw the dead squawking and gibbering in the streets, Ida. Blood pouring from their noses. It's the end. Our lives are a nightmare, and," he said as he stopped shaking and slowly leaned in to her face, "God is only now waking up."

Ida couldn't struggle away. She didn't want to. She looked down at the carpet, and smiled to remember how soft it was. She started thinking back to the morning. It was so sunny- so perfect. The servants made eggs for everyone. Eggs and coffee. She had gone down to their parade with Jeremiah and Ava. It was so sunny. How did it come to this?

Edward walked to the fireplace and stared at his gun.

"But it's alright, my love. I will wake you and the children before anyone else can."


End file.
